


how it all began

by fridaysangel



Series: Lovers Not Rivals [1]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 14:01:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18053837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fridaysangel/pseuds/fridaysangel
Summary: How Marcus and Trent's relationship changed.





	1. Chapter 1

Trent Alexander-Arnold was a prick.

A whiny, competitive, annoying, grudge holding prick.

Marcus hated him. He hated him, and he didn’t see why no one else did.

From the moment he had arrived at St George’s Park, Marcus was running on a high. He was so excited to finally be living out his dream of playing for his country in the World Cup, to be carrying three lions on his chest, he didn’t think anything would ruin it for him. It felt like all his hard work was finally paying off. 

Southgate had introduced a no club rule for the daytime, and Marcus had complained and stubbornly stuck to Jesse’s side until one of the coaches had physically separated them, pushing them into different teams for warm up. Marcus had felt nervous, unsure about how they would transition to being teammates following the long season, but it was practically seamless. Everyone slipped into an easy banter, the older boys clearly setting an example: get along or keep quiet. There was jokes and teasing of course, but Marcus had never felt a spirit like the one at St George’s Park that summer. 

Except with one particular scouser. 

Trent had stuck close to Joe Gomez and Henderson in the first few days. Understandable, he was one of the youngest on the team and even though he was only a year younger than Marcus, he felt a bit bad for the lad. He must have been nervous, eager to prove himself. So was Marcus, so he got it. He originally thought they could have bonded over that. Both the young homegrown talents of their own teams, and though their clubs were rivals, Marcus was willing to look past that. 

Trent clearly wasn’t. He was definitely still hung up on their game, still bitter about how Marcus had beat him. Twice. Welbz had made a joke about it on the first day when Marcus and Trent had been put on opposite five-a-side teams, and Trent had glared at them all and almost injured Marcus with an illegal tackle. 

Marcus had been furious. If Trent wasn’t going to forget it, neither was he. Fuck Trent, fuck Liverpool and fuck being friends with scousers. Trent clearly felt the same. Marcus saw him talking to the others, joking with them and hanging out with them, but he always seemed to give Marcus the cold shoulder. He’d be quiet and unresponsive whenever Marcus was around, barely passed to him and never offered to be on his team. He didn’t care and was more than glad to follow this train of thought into next season, Jesse however, was not. 

Marcus walked into the cafeteria one day after doing outside training with half the team, to find Jesse sat at a table alone with Trent, their heads bent together as they laughed about something.  _What the fuck?_

He stared at them the whole time he got his food, barely aware of what he was loading onto his plate as he watched them laugh together, Jesse shoving Trent’s shoulder as his laughter carried across the room.   _Seriously, w_ _hat the fuck?_  What could Trent possibly be saying that was making Jesse laugh so much? The guy had no banter, no jokes, he barely even spoke. He was basically just a quiet robot that remembered everything and make scarily good crosses. 

He walked over to them once he’d filled his plate, almost slamming it down onto the table and making both Jesse and Trent flinch in surprise. 

Jesse grinned up at him, “You alright beans? How was training outside? Looked sick out there, proper sunny!”

“It was fine,” Marcus said shortly, glancing at Trent to see him focused on his food, eyes on his plate. 

Jesse shot him a confused look, “You alright? Did you lose?” he asked, nudging him in the arm with a chuckle. 

“I’m fine,” Marcus said again, frown deepening when he saw Trent’s lips twitch with the effort of not laughing. “Course I didn’t lose,” he added, not about to be shown up in front of Trent. The prick would probably enjoy it too much. “Was playing against Joe and Hendo, they’re not gonna beat me are they. Couldn’t do it with a whole team, let alone just five of them.” 

Marcus barely blinked before he felt Jesse smack his arm hard enough to knock his fork out of his hand. He regretted the words straight away, feeling like a bit of a dick. He didn’t have the chance to take it back or play it off as a joke before Trent rolled his eyes and stood up, “See you tonight,” he said to Jesse before walking away without even glancing at Marcus again. 

“What d’you do that for?” Jesse asked, smacking his arm again. 

“What’s tonight?” Marcus asked, ignoring the ache in his arm and Jesse’s question.  

“Why you being a prick to him? Gaffer wants us to get along, not say dumb shit like that,” Jesse reminded him. “And he’s actually alright you know.”

“What’s tonight?” Marcus asked again.

“We’re gonna do a pool tournament with Welbz and Joe. Get one of the lads to join you and come with.” 

“We had plans.”

“No we didn’t.”

“Last night we were playing Fifa and we said, ‘we’ll continue tomorrow’, it’s tomorrow.”

Jesse blinked at him twice before laughing, “Don’t be daft, Rash. I’m sure Eric would play with you.”

“I don’t want to play with Eric, why can’t Trent play with Eric?” 

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Since when are you two friends?” Marcus asked, digging a fork into his dinner and taking an angry bite. 

“Since we started playing for the same team!” Jesse huffed, smacking the back of his head, “He’s a nice lad. You’d like him.”

“Not likely,” Marcus insisted, glaring at Jesse when he felt another smack to the head. “Stop it!” 

“Stop being an idiot,” Jesse said with an easy shrug. 

 

This continued over the next few days. Trent was suddenly always with Jesse. Marcus wasn’t sure what they even talked about since he spent most of the time he was with them either refusing to laugh at whatever Trent was saying, or glaring at them both stubbornly and not listening. Jesse kept inviting Trent to everything, telling him to hang out with them when they weren’t even doing anything and always laughing and acting as if Trent was  _so fucking great._  

He’d nudge Marcus in fits of laughter and say “Beans, Beans, you hear what Trent just said?”

He wasn’t the only one. 

Harry thought he was brilliant. “See that cross?” He’d say, shaking his head with a proud smile.

Eric thought he was  _interesting_ , “We play chess together,” he’d explained with a shrug when Marcus asked why they kept spending time together.

Even Raz thought he was “a funny, quick lad,” and admitted they didn’t spend much time together at Melwood, and that he regretted that.

Marcus just didn’t get it. He didn’t see the appeal. 

He also didn’t see why Trent got to him so much. He somehow managed to get under his skin with everything he did. Marcus would watch him and get steadily more annoyed. Every time he made Jesse laugh, or scored a surprise goal that had the coaches or Southgate clapping, it made his jaw clench. Every time Trent laughed with Joe about something in the corner of the room, or turned up in the evening in his stupid soft looking Liverpool hoodie, Marcus swore he could feel his blood pressure rising. Every time Trent gave him a distant glance or a  _what the fuck do you want_  look, he was sure his stomach was tightening uncomfortably. 

Marcus had absolutely no intention of changing this, but Jesse just wouldn’t let it go.

“Come on Beans, just  _try_  and get along with him. Tonight’s the perfect night for it,” Jesse insisted as they got ready in his room for a team night out. He was stood in front of the mirror fixing his hair, wearing the same shirt Marcus had told him two hours ago he’d be wearing.

“Why am I being made to be the bad guy?” Marcus asked with a frown, “He’s not been shitting rainbows over me either.”

“He’s not been bitching about you to the whole team, though.”

Marcus flushed a little at that, eyes on the bed as he picked at a thread on his ripped jeans. “Not the  _whole_ team.”

Jesse glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow, “H asked me to have a word with you.” It was enough to make Marcus throw his head back with a groan.

“Fine, fine I’ll try and talk to him tonight. I’ll apologise, whatever. Can we just go? We’re late,” he insisted, standing up and dragging Jesse out of the room.

- 

He didn’t try. Not even a little bit. 

In his defence, Trent had turned up late and by the time he walked into the club in a white t-shirt that was a little tight (which for some inexplicable reason pissed Marcus off), Marcus was well on his way to being absolutely slaughtered. It was embarrassing, and thirty minutes later he was squeezing into the bathroom and dropping in front of the toilet, throwing up into the bowl embarrassingly loudly. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, resting his forehead against the seat and trying not to think about how disgusting it was, trying to decide how hard it would be to call Jesse right now. He’d probably be on his phone snapchatting something, so he’d definitely see it. He was attempting to pull his phone out of his pocket and cursing his tight jeans when he heard a distinct and annoyingly familiar laugh behind him. 

Marcus turned his head to see Trent stood one foot away, hands in his pockets as he laughed again. “You alright?”

“Fuck off,” Marcus spat.

Trent snorted in amusement, walking over to the sink and wetting some tissue before walking back to Marcus. He crouched in front of him and Marcus’ eyes widened, blinking at him dumbly.  _Did Trent always smell that good? What was that? Maybe he could ask him? Was his skin always that smooth looking?_

Trent’s hand was suddenly reaching out and rubbing the wet tissue over his chin, making Marcus flinch back in surprise. Trent rolled his eyes, reaching out with his other hand to grip Marcus’ chin, holding him still. “You’ve got sick on you,” he informed him.  _Trent’s got soft hands._

“Why do you care?” Marcus asked with a glare, trying to tell his own brain to shut up.

“Shouldn’t really leave children unattended I guess,” Trent quipped, chuckling when Marcus pulled out of his grip with a huff. He stood up, gripping Marcus’ hands and pulling him to his feet. Trent’s’ hands felt warm and he squeezed them without thinking, flinching back quickly when he realised what he was doing. 

“I’m fine,” he insisted, taking a few steps back and immediately tripping over his own to feet, falling onto the toilet seat with a hiss of pain.

Trent didn’t say a word, just raised an eyebrow at him. “Fuck off,” Marcus snapped, making a big show of slowly standing up himself, even straightening his shirt just to show fine he was. 

“You hate me, I get that. Let me just get you home safe alright? Everyone else is fucked, they’re not gonna be able to call a taxi, let alone look after you,” Trent told him calmly.

“Don’t need your fucking help,” Marcus told him angrily.  _Who did Trent think he was?_

Trent sighed tiredly, grabbing Marcus’ arm and dragging him out of the bathroom easily. Marcus was definitely going to blame not having the strength to stop him on the fact that he was too drunk to co-ordinate himself. 

He didn’t remember much of the journey home, he was pretty sure someone kept touching his hair and there was definitely something soft under his head at one point. The next moment he was aware of, Trent was opening a door and pushing him into a room, one that was perfectly tidy and definitely not his. 

“If I take you to your room, Jesse’s gonna come looking for you and realise you’re a baby who can’t handle his alcohol,” Trent explained, pushing him towards the bed. “Take your shoes off before getting in.” 

Marcus just stared at him, frown deepening into a confused pout when Trent came forward and pulled his shoes off for him. Then Trent’s hands were pulling at his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders and all Marcus could think was that Trent had really soft hands. “Take your jeans off mate. You’ll be pissed if you sleep in those.”

Marcus huffed, struggling with his fly for a good thirty seconds before Trent groaned loudly and did it for him, pulling his jeans down his legs. “Your hands are really soft,” Marcus blurted as he felt Trent's hands brushing against his legs. 

Trent paused, glancing up with an expression that Marcus couldn’t make out before shaking his head and standing up. “Go to sleep.” 

“Wait wait wait,” Marcus insisted, grabbing his arm to stop him moving further away. “Where you gonna sleep? I’m in  _your_  bed.”

“It’s fine, just sleep,” Trent insisted, gently pulling Marcus’ hand off him. 

Marcus shook his head, “No no no, cause then next thing Jesse’s shouting at me for being mean to you again and I’m a dick,” he huffed, shuffling over in the bed and getting tangled in the sheets as he wrapped them tightly around himself. “Just share the bed,” he said, slapping the space next to him.  _Was Trent’s bed more comfortable or was it just missing Jesse’s sharp elbow poking into his side after they’d fallen asleep talking?_

Trent was staring at him with that weird expression again, the one he usually got right before he took a penalty in training. “Uh.” He seemed to make a decision before nodding, kicking off his own shoes before sitting down on the bed. 

“Is that how you sleep?” Marcus asked, “Really are uptight aren’t you?” 

“What the fuck’s your problem?” Trent asked, voice suddenly louder than the hushed tones they’d been speaking in, sitting up even straighter and glaring at Marcus. 

Marcus blinked in surprise, alcohol riddled brain trying to catch up with the sudden change in mood, “Uh.”

“No seriously. What is it? You’ve spent the past two weeks being an absolute prick, I’ve done fuck all to you. Rivalry is rivalry, I get it, but Jesse’s fine with me. You’re fine with Joey and Hendo, what’s your problem with me?” Trent asked, turning in the bed to face him.

Marcus stared at him. He hadn’t expected Trent to confront him, and now that he had, he was stumped and his head was swimming too much to try and form a real response. Why  _did_  he hate Trent so much? Here he was being perfectly nice and friendly, and Marcus was being a dick again. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t know, man. You just...you piss me off.” 

Trent blinked at him silently, clearly waiting for more. 

“I don’t know! You just...you’re always there. With Jesse and with everyone and everyone thinks you’re so fucking great and you smell good and you wear those dumb shorts and that dumb Liverpool hoodie, what’s with that?” Marcus asked angrily, “And what’s with the scoring? You’re a right-back, you’re not supposed to score. And why are your hands so soft? That’s not normal for a guy you’re-”

“Hang on what?” Trent asked in confusion, leaning back. “The fuck’s that got to do with anything?” 

“I don’t know!” Marcus shouted, lifting his arms to show his annoyance before letting them drop back down, his left hand landing on Trent’s thigh. 

Both their eyes dropped to his hand, staring at it. 

His breath suddenly felt impossibly tight and Marcus cleared his throat, quickly moving his hand back. “Um. Sorry. You’re right. I’ve been a dick and honestly I don’t know why. I can’t...” he shook his head. “I’m just sorry. Can we start again?”

Trent swallowed and Marcus definitely didn’t follow the movement of his throat. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Okay.” 

Marcus nodded and they stared at each other silently for a few minutes before Marcus shifted to get more comfortable in the bed, eyes falling shut. “So why d’you start playing football?” He asked. 

He heard Trent snort again and could just imagine the face he was pulling. “I know. It’s a dumb question and I feel like a twat for asking, but let’s just get to know each other alright?” 

Trent didn’t respond and Marcus opened his eyes to look at him, staring at him for a long moment until Trent relented, leaning back against the headboard and launching into a story. 

Marcus did his best to listen, but his concentration kept slipping. He kept noting the way Trent’s bottom lip looked when he’d just licked or bitten it, the way Trent moved just one of his hands when he spoke, the way his eyes lit up when he laughed. He watched him speak for almost two hours, asking him whatever question he could to keep him talking before he finally worked up the courage to do what he’d been wanting to do since they got to Trent’s room. Probably what he’d been wanting to do since he got to St George’s Park. He sat up in the bed, pushing the covers to his waist to lean forward and kiss Trent. 

Trent had been mid speech about his first day training with the first team when Marcus leaned forward and he made a noise of surprise, leaning back to blink at him. 

Marcus was sure he could feel his heartbeat in his ears as he and Trent stared at each other silently for a long moment and he was about to come up with whatever excuse he could to explain why he’d just done that when Trent moved his hand to the back of Marcus’ neck to pull him in, and kissed him. Marcus felt his breath leave him in surprise as he immediately kissed him back with a pleased groan, hand gripping Trent’s waist as he deepened the kiss and leaned closer, pushing Trent back against the pillows.  _His tongue was soft too._  

Trent’s other hand was running up his back and Marcus was groaning quietly and was just about ready to climb on top of Trent when there was a loud knock against Trent's door and Marcus jumped so much he fell off the bed with a shout of surprise, "Fuck!"

"Trent?" Someone shouted from the other side, and it took Marcus a minute to realise it was Joe. "Mate, you awake?"

"You okay?" Trent asked him quietly, sitting up with wide eyes and reaching out for him, but the moment was ruined and Marcus felt like an ice cold bucket of water had been thrown over him, so he flinched at Trent's touch, stumbling to his feet and putting some much needed space between them. Trent blinked in surprise, confusion covering his face. 

"Trent? You seen Rash? Jess is freaking out we can't get a hold of him, he's disappeared." Joe called from outside. 

Marcus swore quietly, reaching for his jeans and pulling them on as quickly as he could, reaching for his shoes as well and walking over to turn the light on. "Make the bed this looks so suspicious!" He hissed at Trent, who had been stood there staring at him. 

"It's not suspicious if we were actually-"

"Is now the fucking time?" Marcus snapped, "We were drunk, it was dumb. Just forget about it, don't mean nothing." He turned around quickly to try and find his phone so he didn't have to see Trent's reaction to that, he could feel his eyes on him for a long second, but he heard him shuffling around behind him a second later. He turned around in time to see Trent walking towards the door, had a quick moment to compose himself before Trent was pulling it open. 

Joe blinked at them in surprise, "Oh you're here," he said to Marcus before glancing over at Trent almost suspiciously. Fuck. "You alright?" 

"Yep," Trent said, voice clipped and short. "He was drunk as fuck, throwing up and shit. Brought him back but he couldn't find his key. We just got here, he was gonna charge his phone to call Jess. Don't know what's wrong with mine, I tried calling him," he said with an easy shrug, and Marcus had to admire how quick he was. 

Joe seemed to accept that, nodding, "Alright. Well Jess is down in reception, I'll text him to come up."

"Cool," Marcus nodded, feeling more sober than he had in hours as he walked past Trent, giving him a friendly  _neutral_ clap on the shoulder, "Thanks mate." He glanced back in time to see Trent looking at him with a look that didn't say anything other than  _you're the world's biggest dick_ , and all he could do was blink back before heading to his room.

Hating his teammate was one thing, but kissing him? Marcus had well and truly fucked this up. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Trent Alexander-Arnold was a prick. 

Marcus would readily admit that last night he’d been a prick. He had freaked out when Joe turned up, wasn’t sure how to react and just did what he could to save himself (and Trent) from a possibly volatile reaction from their teammates. 

He definitely regretted it after and spent a good thirty minutes in bed - after spending 45 minutes reassuring Jesse that he was okay - drafting different messages to Trent to explain his behaviour. He didn’t have his number so he’d written them on his notes and planned to send the final draft to him on Instagram. Then he’d actually gotten onto Trent’s instagram and been distracted by the pictures and fallen asleep staring at Trent celebrating a goal in his red kit.

Now though, he was already regretting it. He’d walked into the cafeteria ten minutes ago and found it empty, sitting at a table with some cereal. 5 minutes later, Trent had walked in and Marcus’ heart had started hammering painfully, his lips tingling as though they could still feel Trent. Then Trent had got his food and walked straight past Marcus to sit as far away from him as possible, alone. Trent was a prick. A childish, petty prick. 

Marcus blinked at him, staring at him from the other side of the room for a full five minutes before he stood up with a huff. He walked right over to where Trent was watching -  _Seriously? -_  a Liverpool game from 2006 on his phone and sat down next to him. 

“Trent.”

After giving him exactly 12 seconds to respond and getting nothing, Marcus leaned over and paused the game, pushing Trent’s phone away from him. 

Trent blinked at the table before looking at him, expression blank. “Yes?”

“What d’you mean yes,” Marcus huffed, “Can we please talk about last night?” He asked quietly, leaning closer to Trent.

Trent leaned back with a shrug, “Talk about what? Wasn’t gonna leave you there was I? It’s fine, don’t have to act like we’re friends now,” he said reassuringly, grabbing his phone and standing up. 

Marcus reached for his hand instinctively to stop him, flinching when Trent ripped his hand back and took two full steps back. “You’re seriously going to act like nothing happened?” he asked quietly. He couldn’t believe this, couldn’t believe Trent was acting like this when Marcus had spent all morning thinking about Trent and his stupid hands and his stupid lips. 

Trent frowned at him, “I brought you back, you charged your phone then Joe turned up. Nothing else happened,” he said, tone neutral as he shrugged again before walking away. 

Marcus watched him walk away, feeling like someone had just booted a ball straight into his stomach. He should never have kissed him. He shouldn't even have tried to be nice to him, Marcus thought bitterly. He felt like packing up and going home, how was he ever going to face his teammates if they found out that he'd been _rejected by a Liverpool player_ _?_ He'd never live it down. He wasn’t about to let some scouser ruin his chances of playing in the World Cup though, so no matter how much it hurt, if Trent wanted to act like nothing happened, then fine. Nothing happened.

- 

This was a great plan of action, Marcus thought, as he spent the morning with Jesse during training, completely ignoring Trent where he was warming up with Eric a few feet away. 

It was a great plan, until they got put on opposite sides for five-a-side, and Trent was chosen to mark him, and ten minutes into the game Marcus was falling to the ground with a sharp cry of surprise as Trent tackled him with both feet. Marcus untangled himself from Trent, jumped to his feet with a glare and stood over him, “What the fuck’s your problem?” He asked, hands clenched into tight fists.

Trent jumped up, glaring back at him, “You’re the one with the problem, I’m just doing my job.”

“Fuck you, that was illegal and you know it,” Marcus snapped, shoving Trent’s shoulder as he stepped closer to him, distantly aware of someone grabbing his shoulder and a voice near his left. “Stop being a pussy and hiding behind the game you wanna say something to me, say it!”

“Why? Don’t mean nothing does it,” Trent snapped back just as Eric inserted himself in between them, pushing Trent back a few steps. Jesse was pulling at Marcus’ shoulder and Dele and Welbz were suddenly there too, pulling them apart. 

“Easy!” Eric was saying, “What’s the hell’s wrong with you two? Thought you kissed and made up yesterday,” he said, and Marcus saw Trent’s eyes flash behind him. 

“Wouldn’t do that if me life depended on it,” Marcus said harshly, jaw clenching at the way Trent laughed in response. “What’s so funny?”

“Hey, hey, stop it!”  _Fuck._  Marcus stepped back at Gareth’s voice, dropping his head in embarrassment. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you two, but I’ve had enough. I told you to leave your rivalries at the door. Both of you go to the injury room now, talk this through. I see you two arguing again after this, you’re both going home.”

They both immediately started to protest, and were both immediately silenced by Gareth who pointed towards the building without a word. He led them there silently like naughty school children, pushing them both through the doors once they got to the empty injury room.

“Talk, work it out and get over it. You’re teammates now. Liverpool, Manchester it doesn’t matter. You’re both playing for England,” Gareth said seriously before closing the door on them. 

Marcus walked into the room with a long sigh, taking a few steps before turning to face Trent, crossing his arms. “I tried to sort this out earlier, you wanted to be a prick-”

“Me?” Trent interrupted in disbelief, “You’re the prick! You spent two weeks hating me, kiss me, then suddenly you wanna act like it doesn’t mean anything!” 

Marcus blinked at him in surprise, “What? But you…no, you were the one acting like nothing happened. I tried to talk to you this morning, you-”

“No,” Trent interrupted again. “I’ve been trying with you since the beginning! I’ve been trying to be friends with you, you kept making jokes with Welbz about that stupid game, then I felt bad for tackling you so I tried again. Even became friends with Jesse thinking that would help but you hated me more! You knew I liked you-”

“You like me?”

“And you completely took the piss and kissed me last night then as soon as Joe turned up, ‘it don’t mean nothing” he said in a, frankly offensive, manc accent. 

Marcus stared at him in surprise.  _What the fuck? Trent liked him? Like, the way Marcus liked him?_ He was trying to process this when Trent shook his head with another laugh, a biter, annoyed sound. “See? Whatever, look we’ll be civil. I’ll stop talking to Jess, clearly that bothers you. I’ll see you around, we play on different sides of the pitch we don’t even have to interact. See you later,” He said before walking out of the room before Marcus could respond.

He blinked at the empty space in front of him. Seriously, what the fuck was happening? Trent  _liked_  him? How long had he liked him for? Before they got here? Marcus quickly followed him out of the room, but only came face to face with Gareth who was smiling at him, “Trent said you boys made up. He’s doing inside training now, but lets get back out there,” he said. There was no way Marcus could feasibly argue with him, so he let Gareth put a hand on his back and lead him back outside. 

 

 

He only caught glimpses of Trent for the rest of the day and try as he might, he couldn’t even make eye contact with him. Now that he knew, it felt like the knowledge of Trent liking him was thrumming under his skin. It felt like his desire for Trent had grown too. He  _needed_  to talk to him, didn’t think he’d be able to stop feeling jittery and unsettled until he did. He felt like he was burning with questions.  _How long had Trent liked him? How much did he like him?_

He didn’t get a chance to talk to him all day, after dinner they split off to do various activities and he wasn’t sure where Trent went, but he couldn’t get out of playing Fifa with Jesse until almost 10pm. He finally made his way to Trent’s room just after that, having spared five minutes in his room to look himself over. Marcus paused outside the door, taking a deep breath before knocking twice.

Trent pulled the door open a few second later, rolling his eyes when he saw it was Marcus, “What do you- hey!” he snapped when Marcus walked straight past him into the room. 

“I like you too! I shouldn’t have reacted like that when Joe turned up but I freaked out, and I freaked out thinking you only kissed me cause I kissed you and that you didn’t actually like me and that you were going to tell everyone I was gay or something and I didn’t know how anyone would react, and I shouldn’t have done that but I didn’t mean it okay?” Marcus rushed out in one breath as quickly as he could. “I like you. And it didn’t mean nothing. It meant a lot, okay and I can’t bloody stop thinking about it so you need to stop ignoring me so we can actually talk about this.” 

Marcus was out of breath by the time he finished and he just stared at Trent until Trent’s shoulders dropped and he cleared his throat, a smile starting to pull at his lips. 

“Haven’t been able to stop thinking about it huh?” 

Marcus groaned, rolling his eyes, “Seriously? Stop fucking about, I’m bearing me heart out to you right now.” 

Trent snorted in amusement, stepping closer to him. “You’re right. You shouldn’t have reacted like that, it was shitty and to be honest, hurt a little. But…I guess. If you like me. And I like you…”

“We can kiss again?” Marcus asked hopefully, stepping closer and grabbing a handful of Trent’s hoodie, pulling him closer. 

Trent smiled properly at that, cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah. I guess we can. Hopefully it’s better than the last one, you tasted of sick,” he said, making a face.

Marcus shrugged, “Still kissed me though.”

“Shut up,” Trent responded quietly, hand coming up to the back of Marcus’ neck to pull him in again, and Marcus almost melted at the touch. 

This kiss was definitely better. Marcus wrapped his arms around him to pull him as close as he could, biting Trent’s lip and deepening the kiss immediately. Trent let out a small groan, the sound making Marcus’s stomach swoop and he let one out in response, shifting Trent towards the bed. 

Trent turned them around at the last second, pushing Marcus onto the bed and climbing on top of him, “Wait,” Marcus said, making Trent freeze. “Can you take that off?” He asked, nodding to the faded red hoodie. “Snogging a Liverpool player is one thing but…”

Trent stared at him, “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

Trent rolled his eyes but pulled the Liverpool hoodie off over his head, making the t-shirt he was wearing underneath rise up, and Marcus’ hands immediately went to his hips. “Better.”

“Shut up,” Trent said, leaning down to kiss him again. He was  _so_  good at that, Marcus thought, leaning up to kiss him eagerly, hands gripping him wherever he could as he tried to touch him as much as possible. Trent seemed to be doing to the same, hands running over Marcus’ body. 

“Mm, I think you should take these off too,” Marcus said, tugging at the waistband of Trent’s trousers, making Trent laugh against his lips. Trent’s lips were suddenly on his neck and Marcus had to drop back against the bed with a long groan. “Fuck.” He felt a quick bite to his neck and couldn’t hold back another groan, grabbing Trent’s face with both hands to pull him into another kiss. 

“Trent!” 

Marcus pulled back with an annoyed groan at the sound of Ruben’s voice from the other side of the door as he started knocking rhythmically on the door. “Seriously? Again?”

Trent leaned over Marcus with a bright grin on his face, and  _fuck he’s so cute_  Marcus had to lean up to kiss him again. Trent put a hand on his chest, pushing him back down. “Sorry. I forgot I promised to play chess with him. Can’t really cancel,” he said as he stood up, pulling Marcus up with him. “You can join if you want.”

Marcus snorted, “I’d rather die. But thanks.”

Trent rolled his eyes, reaching for his hoodie and pulling it back on over his head, “Tomorrow then?”

"Promised Jesse I'd help him film for something he's planning," Marcus said regretfully. 

Trent sighed, “Alright, we’ll figure something out,” he said as Ruben knocked on the door again. “Later,” he promised. 

 

It wasn’t for another three days that they managed to get more alone time than quick fumbling in corners whenever they could get away for 10 minutes. They’d somehow managed to get three long uninterrupted hours in Marcus’ room, and Marcus thought this was probably his favourite day here so far. 

“What now?” Trent asked him quietly, shifting onto his back in the bed, pushing the sheets lower down his body.

Marcus raised an eyebrow at him, “I’m knackered, what d’you mean? We ain’t all got your energy."

Trent huffed a laugh, “Nah, not that. I meant like…are we…official like? Are we telling people?” 

Marcus had been successfully ignoring the outside world the past few hours, or whenever he and Trent were alone really, and the reminder of it made him feel cold all of a sudden. The reminder that in the real world, they were rivals. In the real world, they wouldn’t be as accepted as they were in Marcus’ dark room where even laid bare in front of Trent, he felt relaxed and happy. 

He knew that wouldn’t be the case once everyone found out. He didn’t want to ruin this, he wanted to keep it just between them, keep it safe and precious. “Maybe not,” he said quietly, reaching for Trent’s hand. “Like, we are official. I mean I’m not shagging any of the other boys. Or kissing them or anything. Or any girls. But…can we not tell anyone?”

Trent’s hand tightened around his for a second before he cleared his throat, “You think that’ll work?” He asked. “We’re with the boys everyday. How do we hide that?  _Why_ do we-”

“Come on. Think about how they’ll react. Can’t we just enjoy it for a bit? I mean it’s early days anyway.” Marcus reasoned, dropping Trent’s hand so he could roll onto his front, pushing himself up on his elbows so he could see Trent’s reaction. 

Trent’s face was blank though, eyes on the ceiling, and he hated when Trent did this. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking or what he wanted. “Yeah,” Trent said eventually. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s not what you want?” Marcus asked just as quietly. 

Trent finally looked at him, eyes searching his face. He was silent a minute before he smiled softly, “Yeah, no. You’re right. Early days. We’ll see what happens.”

Marcus smiled, “Good,” he said, leaning down to kiss Trent softly. Because he could do that now. And he was definitely going to do it whenever he could. 

Trent smiled against his lips, pushing him back slightly, “Just so you know, this doesn’t mean I’m going to go easy on you. We’re going to destroy you next season,” he said in a very serious tone. 

Marcus blinked at him before he burst out laughing, “Obviously. Your dick ain’t magic enough to make me forget what scum your team are.”

“Is it magic enough to make you forget other things?” Trent quipped, and Marcus had to punch him in the arm, regretting having spoken. 

“Just shut up, for five minutes,” He pleaded, pulling Trent in against his chest and wrapping his arms around him. “Just shut up. Forget about Manchester and Liverpool. We play for England right? Let’s just enjoy that for now,” he said quietly.

They could think about their rivalries when the season began again, if they were still doing this by then. Right now, all he wanted was to enjoy the happiness and peace he felt in his room at St George’s Park.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> lionsandreds.tumblr.com


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